This blog explores the breadth and depth of just how truly horrible I am at being an adult.


Tuesday, July 22, 2008

I don't know how to interact with children.

I'm spending this week up at Lake Tahoe with a lot of my extended family, who have all rented cabins within a few miles of one another.

Out of all my ten or so cousins, I am one of three without children. I'm also the youngest of the cousins, so when it comes to hanging out with people at these family gatherings, I find myself unpleasantly torn between hanging out with a forty year-old cousin who sells pharmaceuticals or his four year-old daughter who obsesses over cartoons I've never heard of.

The kids refer to me (I kid you not) as "the boy with the big orange beard." That's a confidence boost.

The other night over dinner in our backyard, one of the darling angels who calls me that said, "Hey! Hey! Hey! (She's a little hyper-active.) Hey! Hey! Do you know any jokes?! Do you know any jokes?!"

I said, "Sure. Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Smell mop."

"Smell mop who."

Please say, "Smell mop who," aloud, because that's the punchline. Yell it aloud if you're in a confined space with other people. Please.

Well, these little girls that I told it to fucking loved it. Instantly. I guess my target comedic audience is people with one year of elementary school education.

My aunts, uncles, cousins, and sister were not so happy that I taught these little girls a bathroom humor joke. Even worse, the girls were screaming "Smell mop who!" at the tops of their lungs well past dessert time.

I don't know if the adults will let the kids hang out with the boy with the orange beard anymore.

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